


Stormy Weather

by LadyMadrigal



Series: The Kensington Tales [8]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Office, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMadrigal/pseuds/LadyMadrigal
Summary: It's been a hot week. All the days have been hot. But there's a storm coming, and it's going to be a big one...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Kensington Tales [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941532
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	1. The Oncoming Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story based around something that happened one time at work. I was the receptionist in the main lobby of one of IBM's many sites at the time.

It was a hot July day.

All the days that week had been hot. There had been four and a half of them so far, and on this particular day the temperature had reached 35C by 11:00 AM – an hour and a half ago. The heat lay in shimmering waves over Kensington, London, exacerbated by the blacktopping of High Street in front of the building housing, among other things, the Law Offices of Beach, Lockwood and McCallister.

But there was a storm coming, and it was going to be a big one. 

“Hey, Zira?” Jim Beach was looking out the window. “Is this your husband doing what I think he’s doing?”

“What’s he doing?” Aziraphale Pratchett, his secretary, came over to look. Five floors below, Crowley Deveraux-Gordon was unloading several cases of bottled water from the back of his old Bentley for the very grateful workers, who had finished off their supply well before noon.

“You know I don’t deserve him, right?” Aziraphale said. _I love him so much._

“Actually, you totally do,” Maddy Baker, Eliza McCallister’s secretary, said, coming over to look as well. Aziraphale was named for an angel, and it fit him perfectly. He was a bit on the short side, rather plump and very shy and sweet, with big expressive blue eyes and a soft mop of white-blonde curls pinned into a little sheep’s tail at the nape of his neck. He’d been letting his hair grow out since before the earlier lockdown and still hadn’t bothered with a trim. He’d survived both a traumatic escape from an abusive home, which had left him homeless for a time, and an abusive relationship, which had left him convinced that he wasn’t worthy of being treated with even the barest hint of basic decency – never mind loved. His husband Crowley was more or less his opposite – tall and slim, sharp-featured and darkly handsome, with dark red wavy hair falling well past his shoulders. He had an unfounded bad reputation, very loving (and famous) parents, a Bentley that was ten years older than he was – and absolutely adored and cherished Aziraphale. They’d known each other for close to two years, been lovers for seven of those months and married for the last two of them. Once the UK had started emerging from lockdown, they had hurried to the Registrar’s office to tie the proverbial knot. They had chosen to delay their honeymoon – not to mention the big ceremony/party they both dreamed of – until the pandemic was over.

“I bet we’re going to get one heck of a storm.” Maddy was looking up at the sky, which had been hazy to begin with, but was now white and featureless, slowly congealing. She had seen this before, in her home state of Arkansas, and it didn’t look good. Had they been in Arkansas, she was sure there would have been a severe thunderstorm watch at the very least, but the Met Office almost never issued such things – there had been a caution issued in 2018, if she remembered correctly, but nothing today.

“It’s really miserable out. I wouldn’t be surprised,” Holly Blakemore, Ned Lockwood’s secretary, said, coming in. In contrast to Maddy’s wild mass of long dark curls, she sported shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair with messy, grown-out bangs. Her partner Beez worked one floor below and they’d gone out to get lunch, but had hurried back, not trusting the sky.

The clock ticked toward one PM. Overhead, currents of scalding steam were slowly coalescing into a rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouching toward Kensington to be born.

~*~

Crowley came in a few minutes later, having stopped off to wash up a bit. The air conditioning in the building was a relief.

“Crap, at least I can breathe now…” he said, pulling the black mask he wore off and wiping his face with a wet paper towel from the men’s loo. “I still haven’t figured out how not to hyperventilate in one of these.” The heat wasn’t helping. He didn’t much fancy wearing the thing, but he was going to do whatever it took.

“Right? Me neither,” Maddy said with a wry smile.

“And now you know how it feels to come home, take your bra off and throw it across the room,” Holly deadpanned.

“I honestly can’t say I’ve ever done that…” Crowley started, before he was interrupted by an unexpected angel in his arms.

“That was so nice of you, bringing water for those workers!” Aziraphale said, kissing him.

“I’m not _nice,_ angel. Nice is a four-letter word.” Crowley rubbed the tip of his nose against Aziraphale’s. It was a long-running joke of theirs. “Besides, it’s the least anyone could do. It’s hot out there. Feels more like Louisiana than London.” He looked around at the windows, then back at Aziraphale, who was still in his arms, regarding him with big, solemnly adoring blue eyes. “Holy…something. Is it legal to be so adorable? Because if it’s not, you’re in trouble.” He kissed the tip of Aziraphale’s pert nose.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale blushed and hid his face against Crowley’s shoulder for a moment before looking back up. “I’m not.” Even in the heat, he was dressed in tan trousers, a pale blue shirt and a darker brown waistcoat, although he had his shirtsleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows. Then again, the air conditioning was on fairly high.

“You are.” Crowley himself was in skinny black jeans and an untucked black sleeveless Psychedelic Furs t-shirt. His ubiquitous sunglasses were perched atop his head. Despite speculation that they hid the effects of either alcohol abuse or a drug habit, they served to mitigate the worst of his migraine triggers – bright light. Under them his eyes were quite large and a very pale hazel. He had his red hair pulled partially back in a little bun that should have looked ridiculous, but somehow didn’t.

“You two make the oddest couple,” Jim said, looking over with a smile. The music blogs couldn’t get enough of the contrast between them.

“I hope your boss doesn’t mind if I hang out here for a bit,” Crowley said, winking at Jim, who he knew wouldn’t object.

“Not at all. You don’t want to go back out in that heat,” Jim said.

“What were you doing out?” Aziraphale said.

“Just stuff. Or would be stuff if it wasn’t so bloody hot,” Crowley said. “I was going to drive over to White City and decided against it.” There was a large mall over that way. Aziraphale’s previous job had been there as a barista, first at Starbucks and then at Black Sheep Coffee. It might not have paid well enough to keep him from having to sleep in his car, but it meant that he could make his own frozen cocoa and his husband could have his favorite iced caramel macchiato any time he wanted.

“It’s bad out there.” Aziraphale went back to his desk with Crowley following, sitting on the corner. Jim was still looking out the window.

“Hey, Crowley? You parked in the garage, right?” he said. “I think it’s going to rain.”

“Yeah. I think I paid for three hours.” Crowley leaned on the low wall around the secretarial bay. “I’m not meaning to disrupt anything. I just don’t want to deal with the Blonde Cougar Melonheads. They’re prowling the lobby trying to get themselves a worker or two. Poor blokes.”

“The what?” Jim looked around, amused.

“Those women from that financial place downstairs. The ones who call themselves the Gay Divorcees,” Maddy said, rolling her eyes. They were, with a certain elitist arrogance, using the archaic meaning of the word. She, Holly and Aziraphale found them incredibly annoying. They were all of some indeterminate middle age, American, bottle blonde, aggressively made-up and perfumed and, as her mother would have put it with a certain disdain, “on the make.”

“Are those the ones who said they were going to make a man of you?” Jim said.

“More like a Manwich,” Crowley said glumly, almost causing Holly to snort vaguely fruit-flavored seltzer out of her nose. “I think they wanted to take turns devirginating me.” Maddy had told him that he needed to say something, that “harassment works both ways, you know,” but he just tried to avoid them. He didn’t want to cause a scene. 

“Hmph. I rather thought I’d already had that honor,” Aziraphale said, looking around from his computer, primly – and humorously - offended. 

“Try telling them that.” Crowley leaned over to kiss his angel’s nose. While Aziraphale technically hadn’t been his first lover, their first night together had been his first time on top – and Aziraphale’s first time on the receiving end of any sexual affection at all. He’d ended up almost fulfilling his half-joking vow to take Aziraphale to bed and make love to him for three days straight – it had been more like two and some indeterminate fraction, because at least some of their first time sleeping together had actually involved sleeping. Waking up to a gray, chilly day with sleet pattering on the windows would have been rather depressing had he not also awakened to Aziraphale looking around in both bewilderment and dawning amazement that it hadn’t been a dream after all, that he was indeed awakening after a night spent in the arms of someone who actually loved him and wanted him around...

It may not have been better than sex, but it had been just as good. And given how good the previous night hand been…

“I would, in great detail, but I’d have to give them some pearls first to clutch in horror,” Aziraphale said. They had been rather put off at the realization that the hottie they had their collective eye on also fancied boys.

“You really are just enough of a bastard, aren’t you?” Crowley said with a laugh.

“Me?” Aziraphale looked at him, all big innocent blue eyes. 

Jim laughed. “You two are hilarious.” Theirs was the second romance that had begun in the office – Maddy and Brian May had been together for about a year and a half. Of course, it had taken a year for Crowley to ask the timid Aziraphale out in the first place. Their first date, to the office holiday party, had been what landed them in Crowley’s bed – and they’d been inseparable ever since. The best part as far as he and the rest of the office were concerned, though, was seeing Aziraphale actually happy. He was one of the sweetest people any of them had ever met, but before Crowley, he’d always been very quiet, anxious and melancholy, keeping very much to himself for fear that he wasn’t truly welcome to join in with the rest of the office when they were talking or planning lunch or any of the other things that went on in an office where everyone worked well together and got along. The scars of abuse ran deep.

“Afternoon, Holly! Ned? A moment of your time if you would, please?” A dark-suited man with an American accent tapped on Ned’s door as he spoke, then went in. 

“Is that Mr. Dowling?” Aziraphale looked around.

“Thaddeus, you mean?” Crowley looked around. The Dowlings had recently moved into one of the units diagonally across from theirs. There were three per floor. Their other neighbors were a Somali couple with an adorable two-year-old.

“That’s him.” Holly looked around. Thaddeus Dowling wasn’t actually unpleasant, just a bit full of himself sometimes. He was an American attaché who had confessed that he was hoping not to be called back to the States until a new (he might have said real) president was in office. Crowley and Aziraphale had liked him immediately after that. His wife verged on being a _Karenus annoyingus_ – she was always quick to complain about _something_ – and their eleven-year-old son Warlock was a typical moody eleven-year-old who had fortunately been immediately accepted into the group of kids everyone referred to as “Them.”

~*~

Twenty minutes later, Crowley was working up the nerve to go back out into the heat while he watched Aziraphale putting files away, enchanted by his angel’s version of the gavotte. He had to duck around the cabinet to pick up a file folder from the corner of his desk, then back around the cabinet to read the tabs.

Jim came out. “What is that _noise_?”

“What noise?” Aziraphale looked around.

“Rumbling. Like machinery or something.” Jim went to the window to look out, expecting to see the paving work starting up again on the street below, but the trucks were gone, possibly parked in the garage.

Crowley had gone over to the window as well. High Street was emptier than it seemed it should have been for the time of day and something about the daylight didn’t look right. Plus there was a steady rumble swelling and falling, punctuated by occasional crackles, barely audible through the glass.

“What _is_ that?” Aziraphale had come to look out as well, and was quite unnerved. He put a hand on the glass and felt it vibrate as the rumble swelled again. He decided to retreat back to his desk.

“Probably Godzilla,” Crowley deadpanned. “I mean, after all, it is 2020.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions here. It could just as easily be Cthulhu,” Maddy pointed out.

“Or both…” Holly started. “I mean, after all, it is twenty-twen…”

“Really packing on those pounds, aren’t we, Aziraphale?”

They all looked around, startled. Gabriel Messinger, Aziraphale’s abusive ex-boyfriend, had come around the other way and was standing in front of a file cabinet, smirking, smug and oozing faux charm and real menace. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie instead of his usual pale gray.

“Well, well, well. It’s the asshole fucking Gabriel,” Crowley said, not exactly _sotto voce._

“What are _you_ doing here?” Aziraphale said, hoping he sounded annoyed rather than frightened. He was terrified.

“Lockdown isn’t an excuse to let yourself go.” Gabriel shook his head. “Disgusting.”

“Move.” Maddy made a point of coming over to get a file, annoyed. “Better yet, just shut up and leave already.”

“I’m really surprised his weight isn’t an issue for you, Crowley. I would find that disgusting gut of his a turn-off,” Gabriel said, not moving, much less leaving. Maddy debated fetching the nearly six-inch thick binder one of the previous secretaries had bequeathed her upon retirement and smacking him upside the head with it.

“That’s because you don’t have any taste, sunshine,” Crowley retorted with a smug grin. “He’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Never mind laid. But you wouldn’t know bugger all about that now, would you?” He was still lounging on the corner of Aziraphale’s desk, leaning back against the low bay wall.

Gabriel cringed as Maddy and Jim both laughed.

“You might as well enjoy it while it lasts,” Gabriel was speaking to Aziraphale, who was looking toward the window rather than at him as the rumbling swelled again. It was starting to become audible even at his desk. “I highly doubt it will for very much longer.” He of course knew that was – or had been – one of Aziraphale’s weakest spots, his fear that he would never mean enough to anyone to be worth keeping around. “As soon as he finds something a little less…”

“You _wish_.” Aziraphale held up his hand, flashing the gold band he now wore along with his engagement ring. He was trying to be bold, trying to remember that this poor excuse for a human being couldn’t hurt him anymore. 

Crowley, for his part, had sat up, suddenly wary. He didn’t like the way this was heading.

“Really?” Gabriel smirked, going in for the kill. “I would have thought he’d go for something more – photogenic, shall we say? I wouldn’t have taken him for a whale rider…”

“You fucking bastard!” Crowley was on his feet, amber eyes ablaze with fury. His demeanor had changed from smug lazy pet snek to enraged cobra. “ _Nobody_ says shit like that about my husband. No. Fucking. _BODY!_ ” He hadn’t quite raised his voice. It might have been less frightening if he had.

_Go Crowley_ , Jim mouthed, looking at Maddy. They had both taken a step back, even thought Crowley’s wrath wasn’t directed at them.

Gabriel’s retort dried up on his lips as he took a step back. He had forgotten just how frightening Crowley was when he was well and truly furious. “I…”

Crowley stalked closer, forcing Gabriel back a step into the file cabinet. “You are without a doubt the most worthless, reprehensible piece of shit on this planet. I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but if you _ever_ bring it around here again, you’re going to dealing with a lot more than me just _telling_ you to bugger off. Is that understood?”

For once, Gabriel was at a loss for words. He nodded.

“Good. Now bugger the fuck off!” He finally did raise his voice on the last bit.

Gabriel opened his mouth, then shut it again as Dowling came out.

“Gabe, my man! Did you bring my car around like I asked?” He sounded annoyed.

“Yes, sir.” Gabriel’s whole demeanor changed immediately. He looked down, shoulders slumping slightly.

Crowley had stepped back and wound a protective arm around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling him close. He was still eyeing Gabriel. Aziraphale shuddered and pressed closer, looking up at him in something between wide-eyed wonder and utter adoration.

“My beautiful angel…” Crowley murmured, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s hair while still keeping a wary eye on Gabriel.

“Good man. Now get going. We have quite the busy schedule today. Oh, howdy neighbors!” He acknowledged Crowley and Aziraphale with a tip of an invisible hat. “Thank you for those chocolate chip cookie bars, Zira. Dierdre and Warlock appreciated them as much as I did.”

“No problem. Let us know if you need help with anything,” Crowley said.

“Why does he have to be so mean?” Vicki Barrett, their receptionist, said after they left, meaning Gabriel. They had gone out for several months, until she’d discovered he was cheating on her.

“Because he’s nothing and he knows it. He tries to tear everyone else down to his level,” Crowley said. “And I’m sor…”

“Don’t you dare apologize for putting him in his place,” Holly said, to the enthusiastic nods of the others. “That was brilliant!”

“And I bet he’ll have to go home and look up what “reprehensible” means,” Jim added with a grin.

“He’s really a very awful person,” Aziraphale said, looking down at himself ruefully. He knew he was plump; there really wasn’t any need to point it out. He’d never been skinny. He also had never thought he’d find a husband straight out of his dreams who actually thought his extra weight was sexy.

Actually, he’d never thought he’d find a husband, period.

“And you haven’t been gaining weight, Zira,” Maddy pointed out.

“Well, I haven’t been losing any, either. So much for getting in shape during the lockdown.”

“Stop that,” Holly scolded gently. That soft outer layer was deceptive, hiding a surprising amount of physical strength. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t have let him bait me, but if he thought he could get away with talking smack about my angel…” Crowley said. Aziraphale was his dream lover – shy, sweet, intelligent and, as Crowley put it, plush – come to life. He liked soft things and simply adored his soft round angel. “You’re perfect. And I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. And I’d best get a wiggle on before I overstay my welcome.” His lips had just met Aziraphale’s for a goodbye kiss when he realized. “Wait. Did Dowling ask if he’d brought his _car_ around? What was up with that?”

“Oh, that? Gabriel’s working for a car service now,” Holly said, trying not to look smug. “He got cut off from his family’s money. They didn’t like him associating with the Shepards. And he apparently doesn’t know how to actually do anything useful with his life.”

“You’re kidding!” Maddy, Jim, Vikki, Eliza and Aziraphale said at the same instant Crowley blurted out “No fucking way!”

“Oh yes fucking way,” Ned said with a grin, appearing in his office door. “Isn’t it glorious?”

“What do his parents do?” Maddy said.

“His father owns Metatron Systems,” Aziraphale said. “He was on track to take over the company, apparently.”

“Not any more,” Holly said. As she spoke, Freddie Mercury let himself in, accompanied by his wife Tianna and the rest of the band.

“Darlings, it is thundering like a bastard out there!” he said.


	2. Like Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And......BOOM.

“Oh, fuck…” Crowley looked around. “ _That’s_ what that noise is!” Although it was still fairly bright outside, he could see darkness starting to congeal through the conference room windows behind them. “I better get moving.”

“Dear, I really wouldn’t if I were you. I’d wait,” Freddie said.

“You’re just going to get out there and walk right into the worst of it,” Brian May added. “That’s actually why we came in here.”

“Well, we came _up_ here because of those wildcat women downstairs,” Roger Taylor added with a shudder.

“Yeah, if it sounds like that outside, I wouldn’t leave now,” Jim said, going to look out the window again. “Wait the storm out here. It should be over quickly.”

“Please?” Aziraphale added. He was terrified of thunderstorms as it was, and he didn’t want Crowley going out in one. He was trying to tell himself that it was for his husband’s sake, but he knew it wasn’t. He was scared and he wanted Crowley to stay with him.

“Yeah. Stay up here and keep everyone company,” Jim said. “I’m sure Zira won’t mind. I don’t, either.” He wasn’t normally afraid of storms, but this one was making him nervous. “How far up the garage are you parked?”

“Fourth level.” Crowley considered it. “I don’t want to be in the way, but – okay, yeah. If nobody minds.” He didn’t much fancy the idea of going back out in the heat, much less a gathering storm. Especially one that sounded like it should have been named Storm Gojira. Nor did he want to leave Aziraphale right at this moment.

“Not in the least,” Jim said.

Aziraphale looked relieved.

“I do hope it’s going to cool off after this, darlings.” Freddie went to look out the window. “I’m getting rather concerned for my koi pond. I don’t know how warm they can take it, but I’m sure it’s not as warm as this.”

“I think you’ve got a ways to go before they turn into boob – boobah – boolahbah – boob-bah-la-see….fish soup…?” Crowley realized, too late, that he didn’t _quite_ know how to pronounce “ _bouillabaisse_.”

“Not funny, darling.” Freddie was trying very hard to make a stern face and not quite succeeding.

“Boolah…something….” Aziraphale actually knew how to pronounce it, but Crowley had him so confused at that point that it was impossible.

“Try seafood gumbo,” Tianna said.

“Dear, koi are freshwater,” Freddie pointed out.

“Okay, freshwater food gumbo,” Tianna said, sending Aziraphale into his asthmatic guinea pig wheek of a laugh.

“Zira? You okay?” Roger Taylor looked around.

“Dear, he’s simply adorable. You mean you haven’t heard him laugh before?” Freddie said. He sometimes thought that had he not ended up with Tianna, he would have bedded – and wedded – Jim’s sweet secretary.

“Um, no. I think I would have remembered it if I had,” Roger said, grinning. Aziraphale really was a sweet bloke. He’d deserved someone like Crowley.

“Sorry.” Aziraphale looked sheepish. He sat back down at his desk to try to finish a contract he’d been typing up.

“Do you write all of those from scratch?” Crowley said, looking over at the monitor.

Aziraphale shook his head. “We have templates. Jim, Eliza and Ned can put in whatever they need, of course, but a fair amount of it is standard verbiage.”

Crowley looked around at Jim. “Is it okay if I look? I’m just curious.”

“Go ahead. If Freddie or the others object, they’ll tell you,” Jim said with a smile.

“Which one is that, dear?” Freddie, equally curious, had come over.

“Your tour rider,” Aziraphale said. “Actually, since you’re here, take a look at it and see if we’re missing anything?”

Freddie did. “Dear, could we get sparking water added to that for backstage? Tigi’s got me rather addicted.”

“It’s seltzer. And yeah, good idea,” Brian said with a laugh. Maddy had actually gotten most of the office drinking it. Even Aziraphale had a LaCroix can on his desk with the straw from his water bottle stuck awkwardly in it. Holly and Beez had brought everyone back one.

“I wouldn’t put a brand, though. You don’t know what they’re going to have available,” Tianna pointed out.

“Plus I usually just get Tesco’s own brand,” Maddy pointed out. “Ask for two-liter bottles.”

Aziraphale looked at him. “How many?”

“Dear, make it…” Freddie multiplied on his fingers. “Say four dozen. No, five. That way there’s enough for everyone if the crew wants any.”

“And they’ll do it?” Crowley said, wide-eyed, as Aziraphale edited the document.

“That’s the point, dear,” Freddie said.

“Like the thing with Van Halen and the brown M&Ms?” Crowley said.

“Who?” Aziraphale looked around. “What M&Ms?”

“Dear, that was put in so they would know if the idiots actually read the rider, or if they just skimmed. They’re actually supposed to pay attention to the details—" Freddie and Aziraphale both jumped at a crackle from outside. In the short time they’d been talking, half the sky had turned a deep velvety gray one half-shade from black.

“Oh boy…” Crowley said apprehensively. The last time he’d seen the sky look like this was just before his Aunt Celeste herded everyone down into the storm cellar.

Aziraphale hit “Save” and reached nervously for his husband’s hand.

“I’m glad I parked inside.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand reassuringly. “Jim, thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Not a problem.” Jim watched as a bolt of lightning sizzled out of the clouds to strike a cellphone tower atop a building a couple of streets away. The concussion made everyone jump. The sky had congealed into a roiling, seething mass of darkness descending upon Kensington.

“Very Lovecraftian,” Maddy said, going to look out. “Not to mention scary.” She thought the better of standing near the windows and retreated back to her desk.

“What about Mehitibel?” Freddie said, looking around. He’d sat down on the unoccupied desk behind Aziraphale’s.

“She’ll be fine,” Crowley said. Mehitibel was one of the calmest cats any of them had ever seen, unfazed even by the vacuum cleaner, although she occasionally hissed at the new Roomba when it disturbed one of her many naps. “As long as it doesn’t mess with her food bowl, she won’t even notice.”

“Right?” Aziraphale stood up to look for something in the overhead cabinet above the back part of his desk.

A flare of lightning lit up the city and a couple of huge raindrops splattered against the window as thunder crackled and boomed, vibrating the glass in the frames. Aziraphale shuddered despite himself and pressed against Crowley. He was trying to be somewhat adult about it, but this one was terrifying. He’d never seen the sky look like that before. He tried to tell himself that it was because they were several floors up and he was just seeing it for the first time, but he knew that wasn’t true. They’d had thunderstorms before that didn’t look like this at all.

“Fuuuuuuuck….” Crowley was just as nervous. He tightened his hold on Aziraphale, as much to comfort himself as his angel. “It’s all right, angel. I’m here.”

It was twilight dark outside now, although there was a garish reflection from the one part of the sky that was still bright, unobscured by the immense supercell ramping up over London. Lights were coming on. The fluorescents overhead suddenly looked false, poorly-rendered.

“I’m glad you stayed…” Aziraphale hid his face against Crowley’s shoulder.

The lightning was ramping up, becoming an almost constant stream of flashes and bolts, the thunder rising and swelling in a constant moaning, crackling rumble. The wind swirled, whipping paper and leaves around, sending people on the street running for cover. Aziraphale shuddered, trying to resist the urge to put his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the noise.

“Baby…” Crowley remembered Rose telling him about a particularly vicious electrical storm when Aziraphale was about three years old – one that had blown out lightbulbs and sent sparks flying out of the sockets. She had no idea how or why the house had still been standing. Aziraphale didn’t remember the actual storm, but had been utterly terrified of them ever since. His fear had lessened somewhat as he’d grown up, but he still got very nervous when the sky darkened that certain way.

Never mind when it looked like the end of the world outside.

“Okay, that does it…” Eliza came in, looking pale. “I don’t want to be near my office window anymore.” 

“I’ve never seen anything like this…” Jim said.

“I have…” Maddy said darkly. She was looking from the window to the weather app on her phone and back again. “And I’m still getting used to this phone.”

“They never let you have yours back?” Crowley said. Her phone had been admitted into evidence after Sandalphon Shephard had stolen it, thinking it was Aziraphale’s.

“Nope. They let me have access to my Google account after they went through everything, so I got all my contacts and pics back, but they won’t let me have the phone.” She looked slightly annoyed. “I lost my Doctor Who ringtone app though, God damnit.”

“I see where your Freddie gets it from.” Crowley couldn’t resist. Maddy’s adorable little yellow half-English budgie (also named Freddie, much to Freddie Mercury’s delight) had come out with a very clear (and annoyed) “God damnit!” after her treat stick disintegrated during a Zoom call.

“Do we have any color paper?” Ned inquired, coming out of his office, where he’d been on a call.

“I think just pink and yellow. And not a nice yellow,” Maddy said. “That goldenrod color. Not canary.” She had just ordered blue.

“Piss yellow, in other words.” Ned made a face. “They’re getting pink then, and if they don’t like it, they can—"

A tremendous concussion shook the building. Maddy, Holly, Ned and Jim all cursed as Aziraphale let out a squeak of genuine terror and burrowed against Crowley, who hugged him tight. As he did, a wave of rain and wind swept around the building, accompanied by another huge flare and crackling boom.

“Fuck fuck fuck….” Crowley retreated behind the little secretarial bay wall, pulling Aziraphale with him. “It’s okay, angel. I’m here.”

“I’m glad you didn’t leave…” Aziraphale peeked up.

Crowley kissed him softly. “So am I.” He could feel Aziraphale trembling against him, despite his attempts to hide how frightened he was. “I love you, angel.”

“Love you, too.” Aziraphale smiled shyly in spite of everything.

“That sounds like hail…” Maddy had gone over to the windows to look.

“Because it is.” Tianna said. “ _Mon Dieu,_ this is like something back in New Orleans just before we got herded into the storm cellar.”

“Right?” Crowley said, looking around. He was still holding Aziraphale tightly, as much to comfort himself as his husband.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better…” Aziraphale said.

“We’re safe.” Crowley kissed the top of his head. “And I’m here, angel, for what’s that’s worth.”

“Everything.” Aziraphale looked up and kissed him, shyly and very softly. “I love you, Crowley.”

“Love you, too.” Crowley kissed his forehead.

“You know the best part? Pink’s probably going to offend the shit out of them,” Ned said, coming back in. “Lousy bunch of homophobic assholes. You know what their biggest fear is? Some guy treating them the same way they treat women.”

“Who are you sending that to?” Holly said.

“Those idiot record company ex—” Ned started, before a blinding flare and tremendous concussion shook the building to the foundation. Aziraphale screamed while Maddy, Crowley and Tianna yelled curses as several of the overhead lights blew out and the fire alarms started blaring, strobes flashing.

“What the actual _fuck?!_ ” Brian blurted out.

“Fuck, guys, we need to…” Jim started. 

A second flare and louder concussion rocked the building, overloading all the circuits and blowing out the rest of the fluorescent tubes in showers of sparks before plunging them into darkness, silencing even the alarms.

Everyone was stunned, ears ringing, unable to move or speak over the roar of the wind and rain. A soft, terrified sob from Aziraphale finally broke the silence. He was standing at the curve of his ergonomic desk, hands over his face, shaking violently. Crowley had let go of him when he jumped and turned around, startled.

“Angel?!” Crowley looked around, gathering him close. “I’m here, angel. I’m here. My poor angel…”

“I-I’m sorry…” Aziraphale was trying to get control of himself. “I…” His voice broke.

“I’ve got you, angel. It’s okay.” Crowley hugged him tighter, very glad that he hadn’t left. Aziraphale clung to him, trembling and crying very quietly. Crowley stroked his hair, murmuring something soothing and nonsensical that started easing everyone else’s nerves as well.

“Okay, that was bad. That was really very fucking bad. Whatever it was…” Ned finally said. He sounded as shaken as Aziraphale.

“I think the building was hit by lightning.” Maddy’s voice was surprisingly steady, her nerves only betrayed by her white-knuckle grip on Brian’s hand. “Twice.”

“I…I’m sorry…” Aziraphale sniffled. “Oh God, I – I…”

“It’s okay, angel.” Crowley kissed his forehead.

“Are you okay, Zira darling?” Freddie had gone over to them as well.

Aziraphale nodded, looking down. “It…it just – I’m sorry…”

“Zira, we’re all shaking,” Brian said. “Don’t apologize.”

“Yeah, that was fucking terrifying, what ever it was…” Roger said shakily, looking toward the ceiling. “I think Maddy’s right.”

“Should we maybe start thinking about getting out of here?” Tianna had gone over to the door. “I – oh shit. We’ve got a problem.” She’d tried to open the door and it wouldn’t budge.

“What the…?” Jim hurried over. “Someone hit the buzzer and see if it works, please?”

Aziraphale managed to pull himself together and reached around Crowley to press a white button on the low wall around the desk. As he did, Jim pushed on the door. Nothing happened.

“I thought everything was supposed to _un_ lock if there was a system failure.” Jim looked at the door in bewilderment. “Not lock.”

“What happened?” Crowley said.

“There’s a security lock on the door. After seven PM, you have to have a key to get in or have someone buzz you in,” Jim explained. “Zira, Maddy, Holly and Vikki all have buzzers.”

“Where _is_ Vikki?” Eliza looked around, concerned. “Wasn’t she here?”

“She had a doctor’s appointment. She’s supposed to be back around – well, any minute now.” Jim looked at the clock, realizing it was ten of two. At least some of the clocks still worked, thanks to the magic of AA batteries. “I have a feeling she may not be able to get back in. If she can even get here.” Rain was cascading down the windows in blinding waves, occasionally backlit by lightning and punctuated by rolls and crackles of thunder.

“Phones are dead.” Holly had picked her desk phone up to call Maintenance. 

Crowley kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head as thunder rumbled. “I’m glad I stayed here.”

“Me, too.” Aziraphale looked up into his husband’s amber eyes. He was still getting used to the idea that he had a husband. That there was someone who actually wanted him to _be_ his husband, never mind that it was someone who he’d never imagined would actually want him as a husband.

“My angel.” Crowley kissed him again softly, then drew back enough to gaze into his soft blue eyes. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that someone like Aziraphale even existed, never mind wanted to be with him. Those eyes… _He’s got eyes like the bluest skies, as if they’d thought of rain…_ Except now that he thought about it, poor Aziraphale had never really had a place to hide from the thunder and the rain. Until now. Maybe. Crowley knew he wasn’t much, but if the only thing he ever managed to be in life was his husband’s shelter from the storm, that would be enough.

Another tremendous crash shook the building. He started and cringed and Aziraphale pressed against him with a shudder. “Wh-why isn’t it going away?”

“The storm? I don’t know, angel.” Crowley hugged him tighter.

“It formed right on top of us, and it’s just sitting,” Maddy said, frowning at her phone.

“That’s not good with all this rain,” Brian said.

“That’s not good, period,” Maddy said. 

“Zira? Hit the buzzer again, will you?” Jim said.

“I’ve got it.” Crowley, who was a bit closer, reached over and pressed it. As he did, Ned shoulder-slammed the door – to no avail.

“Come on you. Open…” he grumbled. “I gotta take a piss really bad, and I can’t do that in here!”

“Just a _little_ more information than we needed, dear,” Freddie said.

“Well, yeah, but seriously…someone hit one of the other buzzers. Maybe the storm just took out Zira’s?” Ned looked around. “I mean, it’s a long shot, but hey.”

“Good point.” With his husband’s reassurance and something other than the storm to focus on, Aziraphale was calmer. He hurried over to Vikki’s desk. “Okay, now try it.”

Ned tried again. No luck.

“I hope the building’s actually still in one piece…” Holly looked nervously at the ceiling.

“Right?” Crowley hadn’t wanted to voice his thoughts, but he was thinking the same thing.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Eliza said nervously.

“Wait…” Aziraphale said. He was on his cellphone. “Hello? Is this Frank? No, it’s Zira. Oh dear…” He looked at the others. “It isn’t just ours. All of the doors locked when the building was hit. Frank said it hit the compressor on top of the building, whatever that is.”

“The top of the building? Isn’t that the roof?” Crowley said.

“The _compressor._ I _know_ what the top of the building is,” Aziraphale said with a laugh.

“Oh, right,” Crowley looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

Jim shook his head with a laugh at how both of them could be so intelligent and still have one shared brain cell between them. “It’s the compressor for the air conditioning.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked up at the ceiling. “Okay, thanks Frank.” He looked at them. “It could be awhile, but he doesn’t think the building’s about to come down or anything.”

“I still don’t like it…” Ned said.

“Wait…” Crowley had gone over to the door. “I have an idea…” He took a step back, pushed on the door just below the handle – then aimed a perfect roundhouse kick that would have done Bruce Lee proud at the same spot. It worked. The door burst open and he caught it before it could swing back shut, putting the doorstop down. “There! Mad, get me a piece of packing tape, would you?”

She did. He taped the latch so that even if the door were to shut again, it couldn’t actually latch. “There.”

“You’re brilliant!” Ned hurried out in the direction of the men’s room.

“I hope that door didn’t latch shut,” Maddy said.

“They don’t have latches,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Remember in the safety training when they said don’t hide in the bathroom if there’s a situation because we can’t barricade the doors?”

“Oh. Right.” She went to the door and looked out. “Should we stick around?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually worked in two places where just that happened. The doors locking shut were based on what happened at IBM - along with the building being hit twice in very rapid succession. 
> 
> The second one happened less than five minutes after I left work. It was a school transportation office. Either the big shortwave radio antenna used for the two-way radios in the bus didn't have a grounding line, or it wasn't hooked back up after the building was painted in early June. Either way, almost everything electronic in the building fried.


End file.
